


Gifted

by HaloMaiden



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Beorn helps out!, Dwarvish tradition vs. Hobbit Tradition, Gandalf - Middle Earth's Cupid, Gifts all around!, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaloMaiden/pseuds/HaloMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbit and dwarvish traditions have been and always will be different. Add a splash of misunderstanding and a dash of endearing!Bilbo and you have our tale. For miriel_ABY. Eventual Bagginshield. ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE - lack of inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miriel_ABY](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=miriel_ABY).



> Here we start the next writing adventure. It is my first time writing a request so I hope that Miriel likes this! She is so lovely and kind - just like all of my other reviewers! 
> 
> Basically I will endeavour to update at least once a week regularly, now that I am back at uni I have study and stuff. If it is to be early or late I shall inform you so please bear with me and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment on things I can improve on!

**GIFTED** _  
_

_Prologue_

When Bilbo Baggins woke he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d forgotten something.

He pulled himself upright on his sleeping mat, gazing thoughtfully at the high ceiling of Beorn’s home. They had been there for a few days now, whilst Thorin was recovering his energy and healing from Azog’s attack. Thinking on it more thoroughly though, all the dwarves needed a few days rest before they were ready to move on towards Erebor, Bilbo realised. But that still did not explain why Bilbo had this nagging feeling within his mind, something of great importance.

He sighed and got up, thinking that a cup of tea would do him nicely. He tiptoed out of the large den where the dwarves all lay snoring, slipping into the kitchen where Beorn sat at his large table eating a bowl of steaming stew. Bilbo offered the skin changer a weak smile, for a hobbit such as himself it was somewhat intimidating being alone with a man so large. And despite being what he was, Bilbo was quite relaxed around Beorn – even if the man was nearly three times his size.

“Good morning little hobbit” Beorn said gently, chewing on a large chunk of meat. “You’re up early” he added thoughtfully. “Something on your mind?”

Bilbo shrugged non-commitantly as he pulled himself up onto the high benches to peer awkwardly over the table top. “I rather feel like something has slipped my memory” he admitted. “Though for the life of me I cannot quite grasp what that is”

Beorn chuckled. “I often have the same problem after full moon” he admitted. He frowned. “That reminds me – the next one is in a few days, I should best prepare for that” he mused, getting to his feet and pulling a scrap of parchment off the nearby wall. It appeared to be his calendar of sorts. “Let’s see” he murmured, lifting a pen to cross off another day. “Yes the third week of spring and the next full moon is. . .”

Bilbo zoned out what Beorn was saying, his mind focusing on the skin changer’s previous words. _Third week of spring?_ His mouth dropped open and he reached across the table hurriedly, sliding the calendar towards him and peering over it. Beorn did not say anything and merely sat back with a noise of amusement, returning to his stew as though used to sudden outbursts like the one Bilbo had just displayed. Bilbo let out a soft groan of realisation and let his head fall forward to drop with a loud _thump_ upon the sturdy table.

“I wouldn’t do that again lad, if I were you” Beorn said humourlessly, getting up to drop his bowl into the sink. “Now what’s got you all in a panic, little hobbit?”

“It’s my birthday in three days” Bilbo announced. He lifted his head and it let it drop back down again. “I will be fifty-one years of age and . . . . oh for the love of all that’s good in this world I am _not_ prepared for this!” he groaned. Another thump echoed as his head hit the table.

Beorn ambled over and used a giant hand to pull Bilbo’s head away, lest he caused more damage to his dining room table. “Come now” Beorn said. “I am certain it is not so bad to be a year older and wiser than you used to be”

“That is not the issue here, I have at least another fifty years or more before I am considering the age thing to be a problem” Bilbo said wearily. “It is the hobbit customs that are required of me, something I cannot necessarily provide for those closest to me at this point in time!”

Beorn raised an eyebrow and settled himself back down onto the bench, forcing Bilbo to look him in the eye. “Calm down” he soothed. “I think it’s time you explained what this is about Mister Baggins and you tell me what it is you need”

Bilbo looked at his new found friend consideringly, dragged a hand over his face and then rolled out his shoulders. “I need some space to work privately and as many supplies as you can afford me” he said politely. “And anything you can do to keep those nosy dwarves at bay would also be most appreciated”


	2. Chapter 1

**GIFTED** _  
_

_Chapter 1_

_Clip, clop, drip, drop._

Gandalf’s keen ears, trained from years and years of living in Middle Earth, picked each minuscule sound the fields beyond Beorn’s home had to offer. The hooves of their steeds knocking against stone and the passing of the morning dew off plants. The old wizard smiled to himself, pleased with how things were moving along smoothly for the time being. It would be a shame to leave them as he must do in a few day’s time. He was quite pleased with his own foresight though, watching Bilbo, Thorin and Balin discuss something – the hobbit and the dwarf king were getting along much better.

 _Sometimes I surprise myself with how well I can see the relationships of Middle Earth, potential or otherwise_ , Gandalf mused to himself.

Frankly though, the white haired wizard was wary. These dark tidings spreading across Middle Earth did not spell anything good. He rather hoped that the evil he felt would spare Thorin and his Company; they would need any and all luck they could lay their hands on. Smaug was still part of the picture; the wizard would not rest easy until he heard word that spoke otherwise.

They stopped for midday break at the peak of a grassy hill, using the small shrubbery as a shield – in case the white orc Azog was still hot on their trail. Gandalf had privately noted that he ought to see about getting that menace off the dwarves’ tail, the added stress could not be good for the King in exile – Thorin had enough grey hairs to be getting on with.

Gandalf had seated himself away from the group, content to puff on his pipe and observe the land about him - all the while deep in thought and considering Galadriel’s words. She was well known for seeing things others could not, her mind was sharper than Saruman’s for one thing and thank the Valar, else no one would be watching over Middle Earth save for him.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo says, sidling up to him and a hand in his jacket pocket. There is an odd look on his face, resignation and yet there was some peace amongst those eyes.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf greeted his friend, inclining his head. “You seem troubled”

“I could say the same to you” Bilbo replied, settling himself down on the grass and crossing his legs. He dug for his pipe, murmuring in thanks when Gandalf leaned forward and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “You’ve done naught but stare off into the distance since we left Beorn’s company”

“Perceptive little hobbit you are” Gandalf chuckled. “In your words though, I could say the same to you – though much earlier than I started being trapped by my own mind”

They are silent for a few moments, allowing themselves to watch the Company interact in the small moment of down time they had managed to obtain. Kili and Fili were jostling their Uncle, begging Thorin to show them a trick with a small dagger that had previously been in Kili’s belt. Ori was buried deep in his faded journal, writing feverishly and ink spots on his cheeks. Thorin, it appeared, had given up trying to dissuade his nephews and was currently spinning the dagger between his fingers with practiced ease. Bofur laughs as Kili attempts the same trick with a fallen stick and fails, pouting at his older brother, who has the trick down pat with his own stick.

“When are you leaving us?” Bilbo asked suddenly.

“Three days from now, your birthday if I remember correctly” Gandalf replied. He smiled knowingly at his friend as he spluttered, the pipe dangling from his mouth. “I am sorry I cannot be here for any of the celebrations, minor though they will be”

“No celebrations this year Gandalf” Bilbo said sharply. “We’ve much more important things to fuss over, that Mountain isn’t going to reclaim itself” he added. “I suppose I best do this now then” he said quietly, pulling his pack towards him and drawing it open. “Since you will not be with us then”

“Ahh, I have forgotten that old pastime you hobbits do so enjoy”

Bilbo snorted. “I rather don’t enjoy it, a rather pain in the neck it is – trying to organise this sort of thing on the road, honestly! Quite frankly I’ve not been able to do this for many back home, I do dislike many of my relatives”

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins am I correct?”

“You have _no_ idea”

Bilbo had finished digging around in his bag and, having found what he was apparently searching for, turned back to Gandalf and deposited an object wrapped in cloth into the wizard’s lap. Gandalf smiled warmly in thanks and laid down his staff to peel away the cloth wrappings. A hand crafted leather belt fell into his hands, an intricate design carved into its surface and a special loop on one side – this Gandalf knew was to keep his sword close by. It was exquisite work.

 _So_ , Gandalf smiled easily, _this is what Bilbo has been working so tirelessly on. I expect he has a few more treasures stowed away in that pack of his_.

“This is marvellous work Bilbo” Gandalf complimented. “Thank you”

“The leather has been dipped in tar; it should preserve the strength long past the natural life of the belt. A great boon when one is always in the midst of some new adventure” Bilbo explained, tipping his pipe in Gandalf’s direction. “It should serve someone like you very well I’d imagine”

Gandalf chuckled. “I suppose you are right, the Baggins side of you has always been rather insightful”

“Yet the Took side sent me running out my door barely before breakfast” Bilbo responded, chuckling along with Gandalf.

The wizard continued to chortle as he pulled his old fabric belt away, replacing it with Bilbo’s hand crafted leather one instead. It made quite the sight, the shiny dark material contrasting against the dirty grey robes. Gandalf slid Glamdring and its scabbard into the loop attached. It fit perfectly. He had been correct, Bilbo’s work was exquisite.

“I may not be a fighter, nor a burglar but I am a Baggins” Bilbo was saying softly, his eyes downcast. “And preparing these few things was something I could do that did not suitably embarrass me in front of the whole Company”

“My dear Bilbo, Thorin and his fellows respect you to the core of their souls” Gandalf replied, pulling his staff back towards him. “You need not worry about any embarrassment from your part; I rather think it will most likely come from Thorin when he must inform his kin that he was saved by a hobbit”

“What will I do when you are gone?” Bilbo asked, a small grin worming its way onto his features.

“The same as you have thus far, my dear Bilbo”

This seemed to placate the hobbit for he chuckled softly and puffed on his pipe, blowing a smoke ring. Gandalf lifted his staff, murmured a spell and turned it into a small bird that flew over to the dwarves and burst on Dori, who had been sleeping. The white haired dwarf awoke with a sputter and fell over, brushing away at the smoke that he had somewhat inhaled.

Bilbo and Gandalf dissolved into laughter, which caused the rest of the Company to join in. Dori merely glared at them all pointedly and tossed his head, stating that he’d been simply caught off guard and he’d been considering a plan for killing the dragon. This caused Nori to mumble a distinct ‘yeah right’ and little Ori had to jump between the brothers before a scuffle ensued. Gandalf didn’t miss the small smile that was shared between Bilbo and Thorin.

 _Was I right or was I right?_ Gandalf thought with an inward smile. _There is some hope for that stubborn dwarf after all._

-x-

When they stopped to make camp for the night Dori was informed by Thorin it was his turn to collect firewood. The elderly dwarf did not complain, merely hefted himself to his feet and started away into the undergrowth not caring to check who his companion would be. He heard a muffled voice volunteer to go with him but still did not turn around. It wasn’t until they were quite thick amongst the trees did he turn and find himself collecting firewood right beside Bilbo Baggins.

Dori simply continued on collecting firewood, he had no problem with their burglar. In the beginning yes, he had rather thought that the halfling would not be any use to their quest. Although, unlike the other dwarves, he had seen Bilbo’s potential much earlier. It came from being around Nori for so many years; one could often pick those who could get away with illegal things as easily as Dori could braid his beard.  Bilbo was picking it up, albeit slowly, but he was reminding Dori a lot of his younger, ginger haired brother. His approach was the same, let them approach him. It saved him a whole heap of trouble and allowed Dori to assess whether they were aiming their misgivings against him.

Not that Bilbo Baggins was one to be frightened of. His guilt would manifest itself rather quickly and he would fork over whatever he had taken from Dori before said dwarf had even realised it was missing.

“You seem to be deep in thought there” Bilbo said, breaking the silence.

Dori looked back at him, a considering look floating across his face. “I am always thinking Master Baggins” Dori said with a shrug. “I am used to retreating to my mind and working over countless thoughts, long periods of silence do not unsettle me as they do to others”

Bilbo smiled at that. “I couldn’t agree with you more” he said. “Many back in the Shire would be quick to interrupt me when I was sitting on my front porch with my pipe, even when I’m clearly minding my own business thank you very much, just to enquire about what I was thinking so deeply of”

“We dwarves are often the same, if not worse. Especially the younger ones, very keen to know everything about everyone they are, Ori’s going through that particular stage sadly. He’s a curious lad but he’s been a good sight worse since we left on this quest”

The hobbit laughed softly. “He’s a good kid Dori” he said softly, shifting his pile of sticks under one arm and digging around in his jacket. The dwarf frowned, what was he looking for? “It is natural for the lad to be curious; a lot of my young cousins are exactly the same”

Dori tried to focus on what the hobbit was saying but he could not because he was too busy staring at Bilbo. The halfling was looking for something and when a soft ‘a-hah’ of success sounded in the silence of the trees. Dori did a double take when Bilbo’s hand extended, offering him a cloth wrapped rectangle. What in the name of Aulë . . . .

“It’s for you” Bilbo said and Dori found himself wanting to roll his eyes because of course it was – the hobbit had just handed it to _him!_

He shook the cloth free and a small book fell into his free hand, no bigger than Ori’s journal and secured with a leather strapping. Dori’s eyes widened and he dropped his pile of wood beside his feet, carefully opening the book and beginning to leaf through the pages. It was filled with strange notes in Westron and diagrams of herbs, tonics and broths.

“It’s a complete collection of all hobbit medicines” Bilbo explained. “I thought you might like it – mixing hobbit healing and dwarven healing may pay off in the future, considering the type of environment we are walking into quite blindly”

Dori could only stare at the journal, Bilbo had hand written this! It was so very detailed and – Mahal above – had he made the cover of this book as well? Bilbo was cheerfully whistling a tune under his breath as he bent to gather the wood that Dori had left on the floor. When Bilbo straightened he and Dori locked eyes and the dwarf took a step forward.

To be offered a gift such as this, frankly Dori was bewildered as to why he had been given it. But he was a good dwarf and had been raised with good morals so he simply raised an arm and clapped Bilbo lightly on the shoulder. He rather hoped that . . . . well that made absolutely no sense considering how different they were and yet, how could it not mean . . . . Dori shook his head as though clearing his ears of water.

“It is comprehensive and well detailed” Dori complimented, smiling. He cleared his throat, finding himself unsure of what he should say next. “You had no need to do this but still, I thank you”

Bilbo tossed his head and huffed, sticking his nose up into the air. He looked rather dainty in doing so. “Dwarves” he muttered. “I am aware that I did not _have_ to do it, I chose to do it and you’re better off for it so why question it at all?”

With that said Bilbo moved off back towards camp, muttering under his breath and his small nose tossed into the air. Dori muffled a chuckle with his fist, bent to collect some firewood so as not to incur Thorin’s wrath. Perhaps things were not all as Dori would have liked to think.

-x-

Night fell quickly, the Company falling into their sleeping mats with sheer exhaustion and Thorin turned to Bombur, informing him that it was his turn to keep watch. The red haired dwarf had hooked up his breeches and nodded without complaint, even when the King in exile told him that Bilbo Baggins was to keep watch beside him. Bombur nodded again and had seated himself in front of the fire, armed with his poker and set about pushing about the logs with a melancholy hum under his breath.

Bombur had always felt out of sorts within the Company. Despite Bofur’s insistence that the others were simply underestimating him and Bombur had simply to show him his worth, Bombur always thought he was the odd one out. Until they had met Bilbo Baggins that is. Suddenly Bombur wasn’t the only one who preferred the comforts of home, nor was he the only one who actively missed said home. He had always felt as though he and Bilbo could get along quite well.

The fire cracked loudly in the dark of the night and, though they both would have done so in nights gone past, neither Bilbo nor Bombur reacted. Noises in the night were now a part of life, their lesson was well learnt after they had plummeted into the Goblin Kingdom.

“A quiet night” Bilbo said softly.

“Aye, I am thankful for that at least” Bombur replied, just as softly. “I fear for my brother each time we face battle”

“Bofur is doing what he thinks is right” Bilbo said, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “In fact he’s been one of the bravest upon this quest; he was most welcoming of my questions”

“Indeed, I have never known my brother to be anything but welcoming. His courage is, as you say, as wide as Erebor itself. I fear, however, that he may one day injure himself in his haste to prove his worth or protect those whom he loves”

Bilbo cocked his head to one side and then made a noise of agreement. He seemed to be battling with himself internally for the moment and Bombur turned his gaze away, giving the hobbit some privacy to sort through his thoughts. One thing he had found when dealing with hobbits, or rather this hobbit in particular, was that they needed space to work things out and should they be pressured they could get quite anxious.

“I cannot find it within myself to call your words wrong Bombur” Bilbo admitted at last. Bombur turned to look back at him. There was a bittersweet smile on his face. “Although I guess I feel the same about every person in this Company, Azog is out there and I am certain the Goblins will not rest knowing that we played a part in their King’s downfall”

“Aye,”

“Some of us are young yet, they should not have to see the horrors that this quest will surely bring” Bilbo continued, turning his head to gaze over to where Fili and Kili slumbered, the latter tucked into the side of his brother as though seeking protection. The hobbit was fiercely protective of the two princes, something Bombur was not surprised at – he did have a large brood of children after all.

Paternal instincts were vicious traits after all but they were ones to be proud of and those who shared them often understood those were not so understood.

“Oh, whilst we are talking alone I can give you this” Bilbo said suddenly, turning to his pack and beginning to dig around in the contents. A soft clattering sound broke the air and Bilbo muttered a soft curse in his hobbit language before turning back to face the dwarf, a soft pouch clasped in his hands. “I hope nothing broke” the hobbit muttered somewhat fretfully before turning to Bombur and offering the pouch to him. “This is for you”

Bombur reached out with a shaky hand and accepted the pouch, a little shocked at Bilbo’s straightforward nature all of a sudden. This was rather odd by all accounts and Bilbo Baggins was an oddhobbit indeed. Unlike most others Bombur did not question the gift and set about opening the pouch, his mouth falling open when he discovered a collection of small ceramic jars, each labelled with the names of well-known spices in the tongue of Westron.

“Like myself you enjoy the comforts of a good meal, it seemed a shame to waste Beorn’s spectacular garden, I doubt he would know what a good fish roast is if it came and danced in front of his face” Bilbo said animatedly, gesturing with his hands. “Being that he lives away from a large water source and all” he added. “See there, we have sage, parsley, coriander and oh! Just a small thing of cinnamon too!”

Bombur ran his fingers carefully over the jars and then pulled the pouch tight about them, leaning over and setting them beside his other cooking things. He turned back to Bilbo, searching the hobbit’s face for a sign of what Bombur was certain would not end well for the hobbit. Bombur had no such interests but he was pleased nonetheless with the gift.

“Thank you Master Baggins” Bombur said honestly, bowing his head lightly. “But I cannot accept such a gift, considering the circumstances we. . .”

“Nonsense!” Bilbo interrupted, waving away the protests. “I want you to have it, besides I have no such use for these herbs, after all you are the cook in our Company so it is only fair”

Bombur nodded in understand, tensing as the soft hoot of an owl called in the night. Bilbo stretched and got to his feet, moving over to wake Nori for his watch as Bombur turned to wake Bofur. The larger dwarf watched the hobbit carefully as he rolled open his sleeping mat between Kili and Thorin, curled into a ball and shifted into slumber. Bombur adjusted his beard thoughtfully.

_There is more to you than meets the eye Bilbo Baggins._

-x-

“Come on you great lug, get up!” Oin growled, nudging his brother with his boot.

Gloin grumbled something incoherent and obliged, shaking out his beard and allowing his brother to pull him to his feet. It was a cool morning and many of the dwarves had pulled their hoods about themselves, seeking comfort from the haze that had fallen over the land. Satisfied that his brother was moving and not shirking his load Oin grunted and moved off the gather his belongings, hauling them over to strap them to the ragged looking grey pony he rode. The pony gave a snort, butting its head into Oin’s arm in greeting.

“Mornin’ to you too” Oin muttered quietly, stroking the pony’s nose. A soft neigh was the response he got. “Couldn’t agree more” Oin continued, forgetting his surroundings. “Ruddy awful weather ain’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far” a new voice answered, slightly muffled. Oin held up his ear horn. “But it is a tad chilly I must agree” the voice continued. Oin grunted. That voice hadn’t come from his pony but from another species altogether.

Bilbo Baggins, resident hobbit of the Company. Oin nodded in greeting, turning back to his pony as Bilbo turned to his own, strapping supplies into the saddle bags. He cared not what the hobbit thought of him, he rather thought the other believed all dwarves to be rather strange considering the manner in which they had met. Aulë, even _dwarves_ found Oin to be rather odd with his lack of hearing and tendency to carry on gruff conversations with animals.

Being a black smith he had shoed many a horse for both men and dwarves alike, Oin had found that talking to the beasts was a good way to calm them and had yet to get rid of the habit. Bilbo seemed unfazed though and was murmuring to his own pony himself.

“You like horses then?” Bilbo asked then, turning back to face Oin.

The old dwarf shrugged. “I’ve worked horses for many a year Master Hobbit, ‘spose you could say it’s just natural for me” he said, rubbing the pony’s flank. He wanted to be sure that his steed was properly warmed up for when they started out. The pony nickered in pleasure.

“Straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak” Bilbo chuckled, rubbing the neck of his honey coloured ride. “So you bred horses?”

“Nay, I worked as a blacksmith and when one lives in times of peace Master Hobbit the only work to be found is shoeing horses, not much call for blades in the Blue Mountains you see”

“Well that would explain why you and your brother both take fine care of your weapons” Bilbo mused, batting away his pony as it nudged his hand seeking food. “Dwarven blacksmiths are exceptionally good at their craft; I’ve read all about it”

Oin offered a smile, rare as it was. “Well once we reclaim our home perhaps you will stay on long enough to see the true nature of our craft” he mused. “It is one thing to read about it but yet another to witness it with your own eyes”

“Gandalf said as much back in Bag End”

“Wise wizard Gandalf is, it would do us all well to listen to him more often” Oin muttered. “Don’t be tellin’ Thorin I said that now”

Bilbo shook his head quickly, making his curly hair bounce. Oin nodded in thanks and returned his gaze to the pony, crooning softly at it and running his hands over its body to work the muscles. A comfortable silence fell between the two, broken only by the sounds of the other members of the Company packing up camp a few metres away. So absorbed in his work Oin was that he almost jumped out of his skin when Bilbo sidled up next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention.

“By Aulë” Oin murmured, returning his ear horn to its rightful place. “You gave me quite a fright there”

“My apologies, you really are hard of hearing without your ear horn aren’t you my friend?” Bilbo said sympathetically. “Your ear horn has seen a few years on it” he added, gesturing to the object in question.

Oin shrugged. “I have had it since we settled in the Blue Mountains” he said. “It’s served me well enough”  

Bilbo shuffled on his feet, before digging into his coat pocket and withdrawing an object wrapped in cloth. The halfling cleared his throat somewhat pointedly and deposited the package into Oin’s hands with a sheepish look on his dirt streaked face.

“It’s for you” he said. Oin wanted to roll his eyes but refrained, clearly seeing that Bilbo was not finished speaking yet. “Yours must be quite old by now and a replacement would do you . . . . uh some good. At least that’s what I hope”

Oin lowered his gaze and pulled the cloth away, revealing a shiny brass ear horn. It was sleeker than his and of polished copper; it shone and glinted in the sunlight. Oin turned it over and over in his hands, it had been expertly crafted and he lifted it tentatively to his ear to test it. His eyes widened as he realised that he could hear much clearer, even when he had his old ear horn.

“This is much better, thank you Master Hobbit” Oin said gratefully, digging for his purse. “Now how much should I be givin’ you for such a wonderful job?” he asked, making a startled noise when Bilbo slapped the purse away lightly.

“No payment nesecarry please Oin” Bilbo said hurriedly. He smiled. “It is a gift, from me to you”

Oin started, a gift? Not unheard of it was certainly true but to come from a hobbit and for it come from said hobbit to him was . . . strange to say the least. He stared at the ear horn in his hands and then looked back up into Bilbo’s smiling face, no trace of understanding of what this might mean. Oin was quite certain there was something more to this and wanted to say something but found he could not. The halfling was clearly pleased that Oin liked the gift and he didn’t want to burst that particular bubble, not when for so long they had travelled with a hobbit less than pleased about being there or keen on opening up. So he simply thanked the halfling and watched as Bilbo took off back towards camp to cajole Kili and Fili into moving faster, Thorin barking his agreement as he did so.

Oin supposed that had in part to do with Thorin for their king could be quite intimidating when he wanted to. By Mahal the lad didn’t even have to move a single muscle to frighten the living daylights out of some poor soul. They really had to work on his people skills if he was to truly lead their people.

 _Mind you though_ , Oin realised, _our great King has done nothing but smile at the hobbit since he saved his life from Azog_.

Bilbo Baggins may be a strange one indeed and for this, Oin was very grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: So we have the following;  
> Gandalf as Cupid, though he doesn't know it yet.  
> Dori as a forever mother-hen.  
> Bombur being himself and protecting his big bro' cause that's what brothers do.  
> And Oin the horse whisperer.   
> I realise the mistake I made with Bilbo's birthday! ARGHHHH! Thank you for pointing that out guys! Once I finish the tale I shall fix that awful error!   
> Yes I am aware most people think Oin is a healer, I think Tolkien actually says he is I'll have to check, but I see Dori as more of a healer and Oin as a blacksmith. Why? Oin's got that toughness about him and Dori is a perpetual worrier - thus a healer. I hope their gifts are understandable in this sense :) Please leave comments; good or bad I cherish them both. :)


	3. Chapter 2

**GIFTED** _  
_

_Chapter 2_

Balin, son of Fundin, was a wise old dwarf. The large age gap between he and his brother Dwalin proved this greatly, his younger sibling relying on fists to settle arguments rather than a delicate conversation. The white haired dwarf was well aware of this and often listened to many other dwarves draw this comparison. Balin wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that particular comparison, yes they were different but oh how they were similar.

Best not to mention that he had been just like Dwalin in his younger days. The way Balin saw it, being wise and respectable came with age, not lineage. One only had to examine the Ri brothers, Ori was wise beyond his years whilst Balin was certain Dori, his old and dear friend, needed a good thump about the head as a reminder to act his age.

His pony nickered and Balin rubbed a soothing hand down its neck, sputtering when it tossed its head and sent its mane flying into his mouth. A soft chuckle to his left brought his gaze and he found himself eye to eye with their burglar Bilbo Baggins.

“Wonderful timing” Bilbo said with another chuckle. “Although I rather hope you didn’t swallow any hair?”

“Not at all, thankfully” Balin replied. He shrugged his shoulders for lack of nothing wiser to do. “You seem to be in much better spirits as of late Master Baggins, it is pleasing to me that you feel comfortable around us”

Bilbo shrugged in return. “Perhaps I am thankful that I have now found trust and – perhaps – acceptance amongst those who I have trusted and accepted for a long time before now”

Balin tipped his head to one side, considering Bilbo’s words for a moment. Silence stretched between them, comfortable in this case. Balin found the hobbit’s company to be enjoyable; it was nice to have at least one another semi-sensible person on this quest. Not that he disliked the others and the company they offered, it was simply a peaceful change of pace when talking to or sitting with Bilbo. At the start of their adventure had you told Balin that Bilbo Baggins would grow to be an essential member of their Company the old dwarf would have stared at you, raised a single snowy eyebrow and asked them to see Dori for some herbs for madness.

 _Aulë how things have changed since then,_ Balin mused. 

Now Thorin and Bilbo sat close, discussing late into the night as the embers of the fire died. Bilbo would tell stories of his home in the Shire to the enraptured audience of Fili, Kili and Ori. Nori and Bilbo could be found whispering over a series of locks, or practicing dodging manevours when they broke for meals. Balin himself was thoroughly pleased with this change; he had disliked the behaviour that his fellows had shown towards Bilbo.

True they followed Thorin’s example but it did not make it any less disgraceful.

“Balin?” Bilbo was saying. Once said dwarf’s attention was returned to him the hobbit smiled shyly and offered a small cloth wrapped package in his scratched up hand. “I noticed your old one cracked and I thought maybe this might help”

Balin nested the gift in his lap and set about unwrapping it with one hand, using the other to ensure his pony did not veer off course – one could never be too careful with horses, they were famed for their independence as well as their loyalty. The wrappings fell away to reveal a new eye-piece to replace his broken one, it had shattered upon their fall into the Goblin Kingdom and Balin was sporting a neat cut on his chest where the glass had pierced the skin.

This new eye-piece was set into a polished brass and had reinforced frames about the seeing glass. If Balin deigned to look closer at the work, as he did, he could see a tiny engraving of his name into the brass. An unspeakable emotion welled within him and Balin turned to gaze upon Bilbo. His thoughts of confusion soon flew free when he caught sight of the peaceful glaze over the hobbit’s eyes. So it was some kind of tradition that Balin was of yet unfamiliar with, intriguing he’d have to ask about that at a later date.

“Is it alright?” Bilbo asked tentatively, leaning forward on his pony ever so slightly.

Balin smiled comfortingly in return and nodded once. “It is wonderful thank you my friend” he said sincerely. “A fine replacement for my broken one indeed”

The hobbit sighed thankfully. “I did not want to present you with poor workmanship, I am well aware of how dwarves covet good metal work” he said. “It makes me feel more comfortable knowing that I have not offended you”

“Bless me lad!” Balin chuckled, stowing his gift away. “Have you not been with us of late? You are a member of the Company – I do recall Bofur telling you as much – and any gift is well received and in which case we understand you are a hobbit, metal work should not be your main concern”

“Then what should be?”

“Why living of course!”

For Balin, son of Fundin, that was the most obvious – if not important - thing in the world.

-x-

Gloin zoned out as his brother began to sing an old song yet again; Oin particularly loved that song when they were riding in the early morning. Sort of a tradition ever since they’d left the Shire – it was the song their mother would sing them when they were having trouble falling asleep. It was the same one he would sing to Gimli in days past. Gloin rolled out his shoulders, now more than ever he felt a longing in his heart to see his family again. He was almost disappointed that Gimli had been unable to come along on their quest where Fili, Kili and Ori could.

Although thinking back on previous events such as the two princes losing the ponies which led to trolls and Ori being picked upon in the Goblin Kingdom and he quickly dismissed the idea. If the two heirs were nervous about what the Lady Dis might think of their escapades then Gloin shuddered to think of the treatment from his beautiful wife he might receive should his Gimli had been harmed.

“We’ll stop here for a moment!” Thorin called. “Dwalin scout ahead and take Fili with you. Nori, take Kili and make sure we have not been followed, by orc or man alike”

Gloin slid off his pony, patted the gelding once on its flank and set about removing a tangle in his beard. Gracious the state of his beard, he ought to be ashamed. He was so transfixed in setting it to rights again that when a small hand grazed his elbow Gloin swore marvellously in Khuzdul and whirled around, wishing that his axe was ready for battle.

“It’s only me” Bilbo squeaked, hands held up in defence. Gloin lowered the hand that had flown to his knife and let out a deep breath.

“Mahal above, Mister Baggins” Gloin rumbled, placing a hand over his heart. “I would have cleaved your head from your shoulders had my axe been available”

Bilbo seemed to pale at that but Gloin patted his shoulder consolingly. Best not keep the truth from the hobbit. He was a smart one at that. Gloin hated to admit it but he had very much underestimated the hairy footed being upon their first meeting. And being his usual self he had complained about him to Oin, in what he hoped was an undertone. It wasn’t until they reached the Misty Mountains that Gloin had realised the hobbit had heard every word said about him since they left the Shire, whispered or otherwise.

_“_ _You can't turn back now. You're part of the company. You're one of us!” Bofur insisted, his voice bouncing quietly about the cave._

_Gloin turned over, feigning sleep. Bofur and his sentimentality. True Baggins hadn’t been completely useless thus far but as far as the red haired dwarf was concerned any creature that held love for elves deserved no place amongst dwarves._

_“I'm not now, am I? Thorin said I should have never have come and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door” Bilbo murmured in reply._

_Oh. Well then._

Since then however Gloin was very much convinced that the hobbit had earned his place amongst them. If Thorin could accept him then Gloin would too.

“Your axe is not useable at this moment though?” Bilbo asked. Poor thing looked more than a little relieved at that fact, Gloin noted.

“Nay, little hobbit” Gloin replied, seating his hand on the blade which he had lashed to his side. “The handle snapped clean in two once we reached that skin changer’s domain, I daresay due from me bashing in the skulls of goblin scum”

Bilbo raised one eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. “I noticed as much when we got down from the Carrock” he said slowly, as though not wanting another long winded conversation about the dwarves’ escape from the Goblin Kingdom. He leaned over to his pony’s saddle bag and withdrew a long, angular shape wrapped in cloth.

Gloin wordlessly accepted the package, slid the cloth away and felt his jaw drop. In his hands he held a hand crafted wooden handle for his axe. It had been polished, dipped in a solution to achieve longevity and then intricately carved with twisting lines and a solitary leaf at the base. The hobbit had carved this?

“I noticed you had little time to find a replacement for your axe so I thought to rectify that problem for you” Bilbo was saying. He gestured to the carved wood with a hand. “I made it slightly longer just in case you needed to cut it so you could attach the blade” he added, leaning back against the horse.

Gloin raised his eyebrows and made a noise of understanding. He could not accept this – no he _would not_ accept this. It was illogical and wrong on many a level. Especially considering his status as well as Bilbo’s own, for Mahal’s sake! Gloin raised his head and made to give the gift back to the hobbit but found himself staring at empty space. He whirled around, seeing Bilbo had moved off to join in with a song that Bofur, Oin and Nori were singing.

 _Hobbits,_ Gloin thought to himself, _are very strange creatures._

-x-

Ori was the youngest of the brother’s Ri. He was the second youngest on this quest, being Kili’s elder by a year for all the difference it made. They still treated him like the youngest even when Ori, not Kili, had more facial hair. Still Ori found it never bothered him. He was content with his books and knitting, he was more of a silent party in this Company. He observed from afar and recorded every moment, be it thrilling battle or peaceful camp. That was his role. His. And he was happy with it.

Ori knew he was an odd dwarf. Not many young dwarves would be comfortable sitting around knitting, or talking with Balin about history. Most young dwarflings were like Kili and Fili. Craving adventure and looking for a fight around every corner. Dori liked to say that Nori had been double the trouble of two dwarflings and that’s why Ori had been such a quiet child. Ori just thought it was because he was different. He was okay with that, really. It meant people underestimated him and when they did – well it wasn’t pretty to say the least.

It was the same mistake they made about Dori until they caught a glimpse of angry Dori. The last dwarf still jumps whenever Dori walks past, Ori muses. They had broken for lunch, nearly four hours after they had paused. Mirkwood was drawing closer and closer by the day. Frankly it had Ori worried, Mirkwood meant elves. Elves meant Thranduil. And Thranduil meant grumpy Thorin.

So absorbed in his journal was he that when Ori felt someone sit down beside him he let out a little squeak. He was much more used to being interrupted but was surprised when he found his visitor to be Bilbo Baggins. They hadn’t spoken much since Thorin had taken a shine to the hobbit and Ori found himself missing the hobbit’s company. He hoped that when they reached Erebor they could explore the library together. Yes, Ori would like that very much.

“Your journal is almost full Ori” Bilbo commented, cementing his pipe between his teeth.

“I promised Mister Thorin that I would keep an accurate log of the journey from beginning to end” Ori replied dutifully, smiling a little. “I hope to make it into a book one day” he added, more to himself than his companion.

“That’s a wonderful idea Ori!” Bilbo enthused, clapping Ori on the shoulder. “It would make a wonderful read! Thus the dwarves of Erebor will hear the true story of Thorin Oakenshield and his Company!”

Ori shrugged. “I suppose so, you seem rather positive about our journey now” he said, tapping the edge of his quill against his chin in thought.

Bilbo shrugged. “I have to believe things will turn out all right in the end” he admitted quietly, lowering the pipe in thought. He gazed sadly at Ori. “Or perhaps that is what I hope and pray for; I have yet to find a more deserving person of their home then this merry band of dwarves”

The young dwarf smiled widely. Bilbo smiled back fondly, leaning over to ruffle Ori’s hair good naturedly. Silence fell between them, comfortable and simple. It was the way with scholars, when words are no longer needed silence can speak so much louder. Then Bilbo broke it by depositing a cloth wrapped object into Ori’s lap. The scribe started. Why was Bilbo, of all people, giving him a gift? Could it. . . .Ori dismissed that thought quick smart.

“Mi. . . Mister Bilbo?” Ori squeaked. “Why . . .?”

“Just open it already” the hobbit insisted, smiling kindly at him.

Ori obliged, knowing full well it was polite to open a gift that one was given and also knowing full well that Dori would beat him soundly if he was not polite. The wrappings were pulled back to reveal a hand crafted journal. Ori gaped down at it, thumbing through the blank pages before returning to examine the handmade leather cover that had been embossed with the image of a sleeping owl.

“I thought the owl fitted you best” Bilbo was explaining. “Very wise you are, for a young dwarf that is” he added, nudging Ori. “And since you were running out of room I thought a journal would be a most appropriate gift for you”

Ori felt himself blush red to the roots of his hair. It was a beautiful journal and he was very thankful for it, telling Mister Baggins as such. He couldn’t quite figure out why Bilbo had given it to him though. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Could this have been the moment that Dori had told him about? He felt – and it sounded terrible to think it – that he could not accept this gift. Not truly when . . .

Before he could finish the thought however Thorin was on his feet and calling for them to move out. Bilbo smiled at Ori one last time, patted his shoulder and hurried off to mount his pony. Ori packed his things away, lost deep in thought. Should he add this to his journal?

Perhaps it was best to leave it for now, he decided. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being late - I just restarted uni and then Balin and Gloin decided to be dwarvish pains in my butt and would not co-operate and then I got distracted whilst reading greenkangaroos Nori oneshots (Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap)  
> ^ Give that story a read all Nori fans. I'm deadly serious. Read. It.
> 
> So yes! Ori, Balin and Gloin are all sorted.   
> Next time: Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin and Nori!  
> Stay tuned :)


	4. Chapter 3

_  
_ **GIFTED**

_Chapter 3_

Dwalin was in charge of the hunting party that night, many of the dwarves craving meat before they reached the Mirkwood. Beorn had warned them to stick to the paths and Thorin, though he may have been proud, took this advice to heart and bade Dwalin to find as much meat as they could before entering the forest. Dwalin was very much pleased with this; it meant they could hopefully avoid Thranduil and his elves altogether. The tattooed dwarf had returned to camp following a successful hunt with the young heirs and Nori and was currently skinning the deer he had caught – separating the meat into sections.

Having finished his work Dwalin straightened up and glanced down at his hands, wrinkling his nose when he found his knuckle dusters were covered in blood. With a grunted word to Nori he strode off towards the river they had camped by for the night, unchaining his knuckle dusters as he did so. If the blood dried in any of the gears and such it could present problems later on, something that was not advisable in a situation such as this.

Dwalin soon found he wasn’t the only one by the river. Bilbo Baggins, their hobbit, was knelt by the river – staring off into its depths with a thoughtful expression on his face. Dwalin ignored him, nodding only slightly in his direction before dipping the metal into the water and beginning to rub the blood away. The hobbit was quiet tonight, not unusually strange but still Dwalin never could understand why Bilbo never joined in with their drinking songs or told stories of his own.

 _Perhaps_ , the dwarf thought as he scrubbed, _it is simply another hobbit difference we must accept_.

“Peaceful night, tonight” Bilbo commented, leaning back onto his elbows.

“Aye” Dwalin agreed. He gave it two more nights before everything went to hell. “Not too cold hopefully” he added, a stilted attempt to keep conversation. It was never really his forte, more Balin’s thing so to speak.

“Aye” Bilbo copied. He pulled himself into a sitting position, watching Dwalin work. “Master Dwalin” he said finally.

“What is it?”

The hobbit was holding out a circular shaped object to him, Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the offer but otherwise made no indication of his thoughts regarding the strange thing that Bilbo had held out towards him. The tattooed dwarf accepted it, turning the object over and over in his hands – it was a whetstone, designed to help sharpen blades of any size or shape. His own whetstone had gone missing during the battle with Azog and his orc pack.

“Why have ye given me such a gift?” Dwalin asked, hefting the stone between his hands, running his fingers over the smooth surface. He didn’t care about manners at this point. Hobbits were strange creatures it was certainly true but this? A little far by his standards.

“You lost your own did you not?” Bilbo asked. He was smiling innocently but Dwalin could detect a hint of confusion and an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look. “This would help you greatly would it not?”

“Aye”

“Then what is the problem?” Bilbo continued, laughing softly at Dwalin. “You lost yours and I am providing you with a new one, this one will be much better for your grip”

Dwalin raised his eyebrows. When did Bilbo Baggins get himself a sharp tongue? Dwalin made a mental note to restrict the hobbit’s time with Nori to as little as possible. He nodded to their burglar and tucked the whetstone into his jacket pocket, patting it with his hand to make certain it stayed where it was. This brought the biggest smile to Baggins’ face that Dwalin had to blink.

Bilbo had got to his feet and had moved away towards the Company leaving Dwalin to his thoughts. As soon as he was certain the hobbit was out of sight Dwalin turned back to face the river, drawing the whetstone out again so he could examine it once more. It was good work that was true. Not quite up to standards of true weapon makers but then this was a gift from a hobbit – they were unlikely to ever craft weapons of any sort. It was rudimentary but well made all the same. Dwalin pocketed the stone once more and gazed back to where Bilbo had left.

This changed things.

-x-

Bifur had always been an odd dwarf by most standards.

Even before the orc had left the head of its axe embedded in his skull Bifur had never felt the need to loud and rambunctious like his cousins. He believed that if something important was to be said then, and only then, should it be spoken. Despite his quiet nature he and Bofur had been inseparable as children; Bifur couldn’t a word in edgeways, Bofur could ramble on and on about the smallest of things and neither of them resented it. It was the way things were.

Then came the Battle of Moria and Bifur suddenly found himself in a paradox. He had always taken speaking for granted but now that he had lost that ability Bifur found himself furious. But it had been Bofur, happy, ever faithful Bofur that had acted as though nothing had changed. It had been Bofur who discovered that Bifur could understand Khuzdul. It was Bofur who was quick enough to translate and did so at the ready, even some of the naughty comments that Bombur often chastised them for repeating.

So when Bilbo Baggins was added to their Company Bifur did not approach him. Even Kili, Fili and Ori knew enough Khuzdul to get by with basic communication. But Bilbo could not understand any Khuzdul nor the dwarvish sign language. Bifur kept his distance out of kindness to the hobbit, he did not want to fluster the poor fellow with a language he could not understand.

“Master Bifur?” Bilbo asked that morning as he helped Bifur saddle the ponies.

Bifur gave a short nod to greet the hobbit. A wave of frustration curled in his insides, he hated not being able to communicate for he found Bilbo’s company to be quite soothing to his troubled mind. The hobbit was a calming influence even if the creature spent most of his time panicking at the seemingly stupid acts the dwarves would undertake.

“I wanted to give you this” Bilbo said, offering a carved container to the dwarf. It was small, only just bigger than his hands and delicately adorned. The hobbit had a strange look on his plump face. “Bofur told me about your wife” he explained, an apologetic look on his face. “I read somewhere that is tradition for widowed dwarves to carry the beads of the deceased partner until death takes them too – I thought this might serve as a means to carry them with you safely”

Bifur felt his eyes widen. Bofur had told the hobbit about his beloved Madelyn? Unusual, which must mean his cousin truly trusted their stout little companion. The hobbit was, however, correct in his readings. He had carried Madelyn’s beads with him ever since her passing in that mine collapse in the Blue Mountains. The same mine collapse that had taken away Fili and Kili’s father.

“ ** _Thank you kind hobbit_** ” Bifur said. He knew that Bilbo could not understand him but he ploughed on, determined to say something by way of thanks. “ ** _Mahal will watch over you for your kindness. I could not have asked for a greater gift_** ”

To the dwarf’s surprise Bilbo smiled brightly at him and said; “It was my pleasure Bifur – now we best be off. I hope we may talk again soon?”

Bifur could only nod in shock as the hobbit led his pony towards the front of the group where Thorin was mounting his pony and the two delved once more into conversation; something about Beorn and his bees Bifur wasn’t certain. He stared down at the carved container and slipped his hand into his pocket, withdrawing Madelyn’s beads. They tinkled against the wood as they settled into their new home and a salty tear ran down Bifur’s cheek.

Bilbo had unwittingly given him back the memories of Madelyn he’d thought he’d lost to the winds of time. And for that Bifur would be forever grateful.

-x-

Bofur was singing to himself under his breath as the ponies carried them further towards the Mirkwood, his lips pulled into a cheerful grin as he remembered the night where Bilbo Baggins had nearly lost his sanity over the dwarves tossing his dishes about Bag End like some odd circus act. That had been one of the most enjoyable nights of the journey thus far, closely followed by the days he spent travelling with Kili and Fili towards the Shire.

“That song sounds mighty familiar there Bofur” a voice chimed in. Bilbo Baggins steered his pony so that it was right alongside Bofur’s and the miner grinned cheerily at the hobbit. “I seem to recall a similar tune being played in my very own kitchen back in the Shire”

“Aye, indeed it is” Bofur agreed happily. “Although I may just have to get the lads to join in” he added, offering a conspiratorial wink at Bifur who rode close by. “Oi! Time for a song hey laddies!?”

 _“Blunt the knives, bend the forks!”_  Bofur began.

“ _Smash the bottles and burn the corks!”_ Nori sang back.

 _“Chip the glasses and crack the plates”_ Kili and Fili hollered, swinging together atop their ponies.

 _“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”_ Ori sung.

 _“_ _Cut the cloth and trail the fat!  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor  
Splash the wine on every door!_ __  
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;  
Pound them up with a thumping pole;  
And when you've finished, if they are whole,  
Send them down the hall to roll!  
  
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!”  the Company as a whole finished.

Bilbo was laughing along genially at that point, tears in his large eyes. Even Thorin had hummed along with the merry little tune which pleased Bofur immensely. It was pleasing to see their King joining in with his people, in exile or otherwise. It only cemented for everyone that Thorin was normal. As normal as . . . . as a hobbit he supposed. Bofur found that Bilbo was a normal being, a much pleasing change from rowdy dwarves.

“Dwarves” Bilbo muttered under his breath, smiling good naturedly in Bofur’s direction.

“That we are Master Baggins, that we are” Bofur chortled. The Company’s attention fell away until none but Bofur, Bifur and Bilbo were riding together as the other members returned to their own conversations. “I say” Bofur added. “You seem a might bit more relaxed these days”

“I suppose you could say that” Bilbo replied, readjusting the reins in his hands. He looked pensive, eyes trailing over each member of the Company. Bofur was pleased to note that they rested a rather long while on Thorin. “I feel properly welcomed now; I _am_ a member of this Company”

Bifur mumbled something in Khuzdul but Bofur nodded. “Couldn’t agree with you more cousin” he agreed. “You always were part of the Company” he said to Bilbo. “Of that my cousin and I have no doubt”

“Then I should like to give you this” Bilbo said, offering an elongated object wrapped in cloth to Bofur. The miner blinked at the gesture. “I have had this for a few days now but have not had the time to gift it to you”

Bofur accepted the gift with a dry mouth. Did the hobbit know what this gift meant? He wagered that he did not for when the wrappings fell away Bofur was holding a new whittling knife in his fingers, the handle carved for easy grip. It was simple yet brilliant work and Bofur made a mental note to ask the hobbit just how he had carved such a beautiful object. For now he settled himself with smiling simply at his friend. He knew not why Bilbo had given him the knife but he was not going to be rude and reject the offer.

“Thank you kind sir” Bofur said politely, pocketing the knife. “It is beautiful work Bilbo, I shall treasure it always”

The bright smile that crossed Bilbo’s face was one that Bofur would remember in centuries to come. Nor did he miss the considering gaze that flitted in his cousin’s crossed eyes.

-x-

Nori aligned his weapons on the soft ground, sat back on his heels and counted any new nicks in the metal work. Five. The thief sighed, rubbing his chin. Not so dangerous at this point in time, he would like to be able to visit a smith but now with the Mirkwood to be upon them tomorrow there was no chance of that. And there was no way in hell that he would dare venture towards the elves for new blades. Nori would hang himself first, save Dwalin the trouble.

So consumed in his examination of his babies was the dwarf that when Bilbo Baggins, the other no-good thief (less so Nori supposed – the poor thing really had no idea), approached he was only moderately startled. He was the most wanted dwarf in Ered Luin, the Iron Hills and several other human villages; ergo it was difficult to sneak up on him. He offered the hobbit a welcoming nod; he liked to think of Bilbo as his little protégé. The hobbit lacked a will to steal but they could work that out later Nori supposed.

“Here for another lesson Mister Bilbo?” Nori asked casually, gathering his weapons and beginning the task of returning them to his holsters.

“Not particularly” Bilbo admitted, hands clasped firmly behind his back. It was dark now and only Bifur, who was on watch, sat awake besides them. Nori glanced up from where he was fitting his dagger back into his chest holster. “I have something for you” he admitted.

Of all the things Nori had been expecting, that was not one of them. He raised his eyebrows as his student extended a small cloth wrapped object. Nori was puzzled, was this a hobbit tradition between master and student? For amongst the dwarves it meant something else and Nori doubted that was what Bilbo intended it for. He peeled off the cloth, tucking it into his pocket, and marvelled at the carved pipe that he now held in his hands.

Set into the arm of the pipe was the intricate carving of a dagger and handcuffs, irony was something hobbits clearly loved Nori realised, and it was a deep, dark wood that smelt musty and earthy at the same time. He couldn’t have asked for a better gift, this was much sturdier than his old pipe – a hand-me-down from his great uncle who passed years ago.

“What do you think?” Bilbo asked tentatively.

Nori looked up to see his friend looking anxious, twisting his fingers together in obvious distress. This surely could not mean what Nori thought it meant. He rather hoped not. He was quite content with his friendship with Bilbo, besides even if he wanted anything else (which he didn’t) he’d rather not have Thorin killing him in his sleep. Nori respected their king and would hate to have to kill him.

“It’s beautiful Bilbo” Nori said slowly. He smiled at the hobbit, suddenly feeling very conscious of his friend’s feelings. He should tell him the truth but one look at the relieved glance had him rethinking. Bilbo had only just been accepted by the Company, Nori could not bring himself to disrupt that hard won acceptance. “I thank you for your gift”

“Excellent” the hobbit said cheerfully, his golden eyes lighting up. He yawned a little. “I best get some sleep, Thorin will be rousing us at the crack of dawn if I know him”

With that Bilbo turned and trudged over to the fire, burrowing into his sleeping mat and leaving Nori staring after him in confusion and wondering how in Mahal’s good name he was going to fix this mess.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it took forever. Yes I am so very sorry. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! *cries*   
> This was a particularly long update. Why? Because all three of the Royal Line are in the next update that's why and I felt like spoiling you all with some Nori-Bilbo bromance early. Nori and Bilbo being best buddies is totally my headcanon now - they would get along so well even if a certain hobbit disagrees with the way Nori runs things.
> 
> What do you think Bilbo will gift Kili, Fili and Thorin with??? Let me know your guesses! :D
> 
> Till next time,  
> xx


End file.
